


you've never looked prettier.

by letmeliberateyou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Crossdressing Kink, Dark, Dom Harry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmeliberateyou/pseuds/letmeliberateyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry has a kink for boys wearing makeup. louis- ever the loving boyfriend- decides one day to fulfil his fantasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've never looked prettier.

**Author's Note:**

> just an idea i had. don't ask me how.

Louis' hands are trembling as he lifts up the blunt point of the eyeliner, eyes fluttering shut as he applies it shakily. Soft, subtle strokes across his eyelid have his cerulean blues looking vibrant, shining behind heavy lids. 

Then comes the lipstick. He gives a one-over his lined eyes, a little on the heavy side with black, but not bad. He knows, as he picks up the lipstick- a pale coral he'd stolen from his sister, a fifteen year old teenage girl- that Harry won't inspect his makeup in great detail, he'll just get off by the fact that his boyfriend, a grown male, has chosen to wear makeup. He hopes. 

All he needs is a swipe of the pale pink to highlight his lips, glistening in artificial light. He feels ridiculous, puckering his lips up to smear on lipstick. He's no expert, so there's a wavering lines from his hand slipping, running over the outline of his bottom lip. 

Running over his already-dark eyelashes, the mascara he uses thickens them noticeably, they brush across his cheek, sweeping down to leave smudges of black.  

Louis gives himself a look over; and has to admit, he doesn't look bad. He looks like a slightly feminine version of himself, lashes longer and the swell of his lips pinker. Everything's brighter, girlier and he doesn't mind too much. 

Strands of his feathered hair fall into his eyes, only intensifying the blur he tries to see out of, from sloppy mascara and dusted eyeshadow. The scent of Chanel perfume he's sprayed on himself is overpowering, and he coughs, eyes watering. 

He picks up his phone, nimbly texting Harry one sentence:  _meet me outside in ten minutes._

 

Harry swallows when he sees him. Eyes raking over Louis, taking in the delicious sight that is his boyfriend. He manages a weak smile, throat dry. "Fucking hell, Lou." 

Louis' chest is bare, stretches of golden skin that Harry wants to mark with his mouth, bite bruises into his skin. But he's wearing black lace stockings on his legs, layers of soft ruffle that stretch across his thighs, thin straps attached to a thong. It's lacy, revealing, and doesn't do much to hide Louis' semi. Harry thinks his boyfriend's never looked prettier.

Cat eyes stare at him, challenging, but Louis' teeth gnaw at his lips. He's anxious, stomach churning- he wants this to be good for Harry, but he's so self conscious. "Do you like it?" He asks, tugging at the hem of the thong. The straps dig into his skin, painfully, and he's sure the skin around there is purpling.

"Do I  _like_ it?" Harry asks him like he's an idiot, disbelievingly. "Fuck, Lou. I can't-I have to-we need to get back, now," he takes a shuddering breath, and Louis has to admit it boosts his confidence just a tad. 

"Can I just-" Louis pauses, thinking of how to phrase it. He can't, so he grabs a fistful of Harry's shirt and pulls him into a kiss, licking his way into Harry's mouth. He tastes of cinnamon, and strong coffee and mint. 

Harry's responding, eagerly, kissing him back with fervour, exploring the roof of his mouth. Louis has the revelation that if he keeps kissing Harry, he'll smudge his lipstick- a part of him doesn't want that, so he pulls away, trying to catch his breath. 

Harry looks disappointed, so Louis says, "Wait until later," with the suggestion hanging in the air, obvious. He bats his eyes slightly and swears Harry licks his lips.

 

 

  
He feels like a girl, to say the least. Not just his appearance- glitzy, glamorous that has him staring at himself in morbid fascination, clashing with his masculine figure. But the way Harry presses his palms down against either side of Louis, using his strength to pin Louis' smaller frame down. He's never felt so weightless, so vulnerable to a man's touch.

He loves it. Loves the thrill, loves the undescribable feeling he gets when Harry swipes a tongue across his lower lip to taste his lipstick, fingers tapping over his eyeliner. Fleeting touches, the sickly sweet taste of his lipstick has Harry's head spinning. 

  
"Look so beautiful," Harry murmurs in the shell of his ear, tongue flicking out that sends a shudder through him. Louis' sure if he hadn't brushed blusher on his cheekbones, Harry could see the obvious flush of blood that rushes to his skin. "So, so perfect. Perfect and all mine."

"Yours," Louis gasps out, arching his back to meet Harry's, "all yours."

 

Louis feels hot, too hot in this outfit, certainly, so he begins to tug it down his body, material scraping his skin, but Harry stops him with a growl. "Leave it on." He cuts any protest with a kiss, licking into Louis' mouth hotly.

He's still puzzling how it will work, but trusts Harry. So he lets Harry's hands weave around and underneath him, explore his curves and gives his arse a squeeze that makes him squeak. 

Harry looks bemused, mouth quirking into a smile. But it quickly fades when Louis' fumbling hands try to unbutton the denim that clings to his legs, atmosphere quickly changing back into stifling hot and tentative. 

Harry's hands wrap around his wrists, warm guidance that has him tugging off Harry's trousers. He huffs, pouting slightly. His eyes whine at Harry;  _I can do it._

Harry brushes a thumb over his cheek, murmuring, "be careful. Wouldn't want to ruin your pretty face." 

Louis straddles Harry's waist, eyes flashing up to Harry as his mouth curls into a wicked smile. He's more confident now, more assured of himself. He ducks his head, blowing cool air onto the tent in Harry's boxers that has his boyfriend squirming underneath him, already worked up into such a state. 

"Fucking do it or I'll make you," Harry growls, threading his fingers through Louis' hair, fingernails scraping his scalp as a warning. The pain's stinging, slight- but Louis loves it. There's been moments of tenderness they share, how gently and carefully Harry handles him- but other times it's fire, and heat, ferocity and Harry's dominance shining through. 

Louis pries Harry's straining boxers off carefully, revealing his swollen length, throbbing and red in irritation. 

He handles it carefully, hands small in comparison, thumbing at the slit surprisingly gentle. But with another warning from Harry he'll 'pin Louis down and his fuck his mouth until he can't breathe if he doesn't hurry up', he curls his hand around Harry's dick, earning a groan of approval from Harry from the contact. 

Louis doesn't remember much, ditzy from the perfume that's gone to his head, and acting on instinct, barely thinking- but he does remember Harry's mouth on his, a clash of tongues and teeth and chasing the peppermint taste in his boyfriend's mouth- then his hand is a blur, skimming up and down Harry as he wanks him off, listening to the sounds of Harry's breaths. 

"Lou-Lou- you've got to- gotta fucking stop, I'm gonna-" Harry struggles for words, instead lets his head fall back, craning, showing Louis an expanse of his gorgeous neck that Louis finds himself thinking he wants to leave lipstick marks all over Harry's skin, stain the pale white with splashes of pink. 

Then he slows his hand to slow, lazy stroking, letting Harry recover his breathing. But not for long, before his head swoops down and he takes Harry's dick in his mouth.

There's the familiar taste of salt, strong as Louis gives small, kitten licks to the slit leaking pre-cum, an acquired taste of Louis'. But he can't drag this out too long, Harry begins to chant he's close to cumming, he's close, and Louis wants to keep drawing out those gorgeous sounds of Harry's from his mouth; pants and small sucks of air. 

So Louis lowers his mouth down, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head. He's forcing himself to take more of Harry, fill his burning throat with dick and let his eyes water, ignoring the instinctual gag. 

Harry's fingers grip tighter at his hair; Louis can picture the red fingernail marks it leaves on his scalp, and it only urges him on further, lowering himself until his nose is brushing against the soft, baby hair on Harry's stomach. 

He doesn't hear much, heart thudding in his head, feeling dizzy from the lack of air he gets, but there's a splutter, short pause and Harry's cumming, warm streaks down his throat, leaving splotches of white around his mouth. He pulls off with a gasp of air, seeing black spots behind his eyelids when he blinks. 

"Lou," Harry's voice is rough, raw. One hand tilts up his chin, and Louis' looking into green eyes, a mouth weakly smiling and indented dimples. "You're-you're fucking incredible." 

Louis' eyes dart down, and spot the lipstick stains left on Harry's dick, and grins. He traces the prominent veins with a finger, and Harry nudges him away, running a tongue over his bottom lip. 

Something in Harry's eyes flares up, something that has Louis trembling with excitement, limbs shaking slightly. Waiting for Harry to make the first move, he holds Harry's stare, like it's a challenge he can't submit to. 

But Louis' a natural submissive-so when Harry swoops down, captures his lips with his own and presses fingertip-shaped bruises into his hips, he shakes and feels any control he had before, crumbling. 

 

 

Harry demands he keeps the thong on while he fucks him. Louis' wondering how it will work, eyebrows drawn together and eyes looking at Harry quizzically; asking for an explanation. 

"You look so hot I don't want you to take it off," Harry nips at his ear, nuzzling into his neck, inhaling sickly sweet Chanel. "The eyeliner-fuck, Lou. You should wear it more." Harry drags his thumbs over Louis' eyelids again, trying to rub the smearing black into his skin, like he's hoping it's permanent. 

His explanation comes when Harry tugs the thong down, just exposing his hole. Louis' cheeks feel hot, blood rushing to the surface. He self-consciously feels the lace, scratchy to touch. 

Harry's fingers skim over his hole, rimming it with his index in a way that has Louis giggling, and at the same time, plead for him to hurry up. He doesn't, teeth digging deep into his flushed lips, swollen from kisses but still tinted with pink. 

There's no preparation, no drizzle of lube to ease some of the pain as Harry's fingers cause him a burning stretch. "Ah-Har-Harry-Haz," he gasps out, back arching from the pain. Harry simply stays silent and presses a thumb to his rim, fingers curling slightly that sends a twinge of pleasure.

He badly wants to press his thighs together, keep himself closed and protected from Harry- but he knows Harry won't appreciate it, so he forces himself to stay motionless, keep himself wide and open for Harry. 

It's not a comfortable start, and Louis simply rests all his weight against Harry, muscles slack and shoulders slumped, as Harry's still beside him, experimenting slowly with his fingers. He works him slowly, until the only sounds come from Louis' throat- high and keening, small whines that coax Harry on, as he finger-fucks him. 

His back curves in, hands clutching the sheets, trying to push himself down more on Harry's fingers, greedy for a pleasure that buzzes in the base of his spine. 

He tastes sweat on his lips, and sugar, keeps his eyes scrunched shut not wanting to look at Harry. He's a little embarrassed, sheepish that Harry sees him in this state, needy and vulnerable.

"Lou, look at me," comes the murmur of Harry's voice, muffled, into his collarbones, scraping his teeth against it. Louis' rocking his hips back now, Harry's going tantalizingly slow; so slow Louis wants to yell at him, voice hoarse, to  _hurry the fuck up and fuck him already._

Louis can't, hiding his face away and only letting high squeaks escape his lips. The pleasure's so intense he can't think straight, mind swimming and unable to form words. 

"Louis." Harry's voice is stern now, and a hand grips his chin, yanking it upwards. "Look at me next time," he growls, low, "or I make you. And that won't be pretty." 

He can't refuse an order from a natural dominant, so he nods, weakly, but peering through half-lidded eyes, heavy and blurred. Flecks of mascara blot his vision, have him rapidly blinking in an attempt to clear his view, but he gives up quickly. 

Harry's fingers grip him tightly, into pudgy baby fat he still hasn't lost, but Harry insists he's still gorgeous and kisses every day. Now, it's a different story. Now, Harry leaves bruises in his skin and bites teeth marks into it, marks that Louis will most likely look at the next morning and blush at the memory.

Harry's teasing, bringing his fingers to the edge of Louis' hole, before thrusting them back inside. Louis mewls, hanging his head and letting the indescribable feeling ripple through him, Harry's breath hot on his neck. Fucking him harder, fucking him faster.

Harry's fingers change to a different angle inside of him, nudge against his prostate and then it's too much. Louis shuts his eyes, takes crippling breaths as his orgasm judders through him, shakes him to his heated core. Cum dribbling out of him, wet and warm. 

 

Harry swallows when he sees Louis' hole. So gorgeous. So open, swollen, leaking sticky cum that he wants to lick away. So he does. Ducks down and flattens his tongue against Louis, cool in comparison to Louis' burning skin. He laps it up, greedily, circling the rim with a pointed tip. He can feel Louis' body quiver underneath his tongue, hear Louis' quiet complaints. Harry knows it's sore, almost painful, but he continues anyway. 

"You okay, Lou?" He asks gently, licking away the last traces of cum, pressing a kiss to Louis' bare back. He sees the outline of Louis' spine, jutting out bones and thinks he's never seen anything hotter. Protuding shoulder bones that he badly wants to bite, but won't. Not now. Not when Louis' in this state.

 

"Ready for me to fuck you, sweetheart?" Harry's fingers trace over Louis' bones. Louis knows Harry has a thing for stretched out skin, noticeable bones, so he sometimes starves himself, doesn't eat for the days just to earn the starved look Harry craves. 

Louis doesn't answer, so Harry grits his teeth and says, "Use your words or I won't fuck you", and brushes over Louis' hole again, far too sensitive, too painful. Louis yelps, tries to regain his breathing. Gulps and replies, "Fuck me Harry. Fuck me so hard I'll forget my name." 

Nosing under his chin, Harry whispers, "I want you to ride me, sweetheart. Okay?"

This time there's no need for a reply, Louis' already compliant, rustling the sheets as he clambers over to Harry's lap. He hears the cap of the lube pop open through his haze of drowsiness, hears Harry's rough, raw voice tell him it'll be okay- and faintly- for him not to ruin his eyeliner. 

Then his hips are being lifted up by Harry's hands- he tries to move his tired limbs, but finds it easier to let Harry do it for him- his senses are reawakened when he feels the head of Harry's dick rub against his hole, cool and slicked up; the heated friction has him whimpering. 

Harry holds him in place as he eases himself down, jaw dropping and baring his neck as he drops his head back, incoherent sounds coming out of his lipstick-stained mouth. But Louis thins his lips, grits his teeth and bears it. 

He's already been stretched by Harry's fingers, but in comparison his dick's far bigger, has him feeling more full than he ever has before. Harry waits patiently for a few minutes, stirring inside of him only a few times- until Louis gasps out he's okay, he's fine, Harry can move.

Harry starts off slow, conversationally slow, like he always does. Long strokes that have Louis' toes curling, shifting his hips into a good rhythm- but too slow for Louis' liking. He whines, back curving and giving Harry a good view of his hole that he knows Harry won't be able to resist.

"Cheeky bastard," Harry mutters, but picks up the pace, back flush against Louis'. Intimate, but still hot, hot in the way that Harry mouths at his neck, tongue darting out at his ear, licking at the lobe. 

Louis brings himself up to the peak, before dropping down, finding it gives him exactly what he needs, satisfies something burning inside of him. He spreads his thighs, splaying, until they're straining, aching from the stretch- keeps himself as open as possible, as he begins to bounce on Harry's dick, moaning filthily. 

Louis' fucking himself deep, has Harry bucking his hips up to meet him, the combination bringing him closer to the edge now. His bounces become shorter, shallower, hands clawing, trying to grip onto something desperately. 

His skin's tingling, his body feels like it's on fire and he can't get any hotter, can't grow any brighter, or he'd burn out, into blackened ashes. "H-Haz," he tries, voice cracking. Any other time he'd be embarrassed by how girly and high it is, but right now he's too focused on getting his release. 

He's no longer cautious and careful, uncaring of how out of rhythm he is, how wildly he's fucking himself on Harry. He doesn't realise Harry's arm snaking around him until it touches his dick, body jerking in response. It's a tight grip Harry has, jerking him rapidly until it happens, igniting inside of him and he's cumming, just a trickle of cum onto Harry's hand.

Harry comes soon after, pulling out of Louis to wank himself to a finish, panting heavily. Louis' too exhausted to pant, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. 

He hasn't thought about the straps and thong until now- he reaches down to pull off the thong fully, sopping wet and smelling like sweat and sex. He leaves it in a crumpled heap, eyes catching on the purpling indents down his thighs, calves- 'til it reaches his ankles- left behind by the tight straps. 

"Should've kept them on," Harry's voice still leaves chills, goosebumps across his skin. Stroking down the indents, Louis shivers at the contact. 

"Haz," he grumbles, pushing him away. Harry stops, and instead scoops him up into his arms, snuffling into the baby hair that grows at the nape of Louis' neck. Louis' eyes flutter close, certain he's blinked the mascara away by now. 

He hopes.


End file.
